The Nameless Hero
by Syntium
Summary: A new hero arrives to Tristram. Based on the first Diablo game. Please read and review. Story finished!
1. Harbinger of Doom

Disclaimer: I do not own Diablo or any of its contents. So please don't sue.

Authors note: This is my first shot at writing a fan fic. Reviews are welcome, praise and flame alike (but be constructive).

So, here it goes…

Harbinger of Doom

Part I

He rode through the gates of the village for the first time in more than a decade. It seemed smaller than he remembered it, but at the same time emptier and more desolate. There weren't many people out on the streets, and the few that were out didn't seem to notice the stranger on the horse. "Well, the weather is cold enough to make anyone want to stay in front of a warm fireplace," he thought to himself.

He was pleased to realize that no one appeared to recognize him; most of the people did not notice him at all.

Derrim caught a closer look of some of their faces and was shocked to see how they looked so… disillusioned. He saw marks of inhumane pain and suffering on their faces, and some of them seemed to have aged many years in advance.

"By the Light, what has really happened here?"

The whispering rumours he had heard down south of dreadful monsters that occupied his home town had triggered his sense of adventure and desires for wealth. But he had not expected to find this.

Even the houses seemed to have aged and cried out for restoration and many of them were burned down to the ground.

He rode up the main street and reached the little square at the middle of the town.

As soon as he saw it, all the memories washed over him like a tidal wave and brought him back to his childhood.

All the years had not wiped out a thing, the cruelty of the other children, the harsh and even mean words from the adults, they were still there.

Derrim shrugged his shoulders to rid himself of the unwelcome memories. There was no point in dwelling on that now. In due time they would know to be sorry.

What he needed now was a hot meal, maybe some ale to go with that so he directed his horse towards the Tavern of the Rising Sun.

There was a boy sitting on a barrel outside the tavern. He looked at Derrim with a shy admiration in his eyes, and a hint of jealousy when he saw the sword hanging by the stranger's side.

"You there!" Derrim called to the boy. "Do you work at the inn?"

The youngster nodded impetuously.

"Well then, maybe you can find a stable for my horse?"

"Yes sir," the boy mumbled and jumped down from the barrel and took the reins from Derrim.

"Hey, wait. Here's for the trouble," he flicked the lad a silver coin.

"Thank you sir!" his face was alight with joy to see his new wealth.

"You're welcome," Derrim said and stepped into the tavern.

Gillian aimlessly collected all the cups and mugs that were scattered on the different tables and united them on a tray.

The fire spread a soft glowing light in the room. Boiling away in the cauldron above the fire was a stew and the mouth watering scent of it made her realize she hadn't eaten all day.

There were a few of the townsfolk there; they were discussing some matter in low whispering voices. Gillian didn't pay attention to what they were saying. Altogether, it could have been a quiet day at the inn in the merry company of friends and neighbours. Could have been if it weren't for the constant threat that were hanging over their heads.

It wasn't just the foul beasts that lurked deep beneath the church anymore, although that would have been bad enough.

Lately the town's water supply had for some mysterious reason been contaminated and many had been ill from drinking it.

Gillian knew that Ogden, the Inn keeper, had a supply of fresh water down in the cellar and he did his best to distribute it amongst the townsfolk as fair as he could. But that would not last forever, there were only a few barrels left in store. Things were getting critical.

She shook her head to free herself of the gloomy thoughts. But that was only enough for a brief moment. The images of the cruel massacre that were branded not just in her memory but in all of the inhabitants of Tristram. They followed her through the day, and came to her at night.

When she looked up she saw Ogden giving her a look of concern. Gillian managed to give him a faint smile and took the tray back to the counter where Ogden stood.

"I'm fine," she answered his unspoken question.

The door opened. Gillian saw a man come through it, a face she did not recognize. He seemed to fill the whole doorway where he stood. A man, perhaps in his late twenties, his dark hair had not seen a scissor for quite some time. There was an air of brutality around him and his fair features could not hide the intensity under the surface. He moved in slow, predatory like movements towards an empty table near the fire place. The second she saw the man's sword she knew who he was.

Not him personally of course, but since the town was under siege by the foul demons, many young men had ventured to Tristram in hope to find fame and fortune and become immortal legends. Once they went into the labyrinth they were never seen again by the townsfolk.

Gillian did not want this to happen to this beautiful man, but she knew by experience there would be little she could do to convince him otherwise.

The man caught Gillian's eyes and indicated that he wanted some service.

Gillian walked up to him.

"Hello there stranger. What brings you to this far end of the world?" she asked though she very well knew the answer.

"Just a stoup of ale and whatever you have cooking in the pot."

"That's a long way out for just a stoup of ale.

The stranger looked at her hesitantly as if to find out if she was nosy or just plain friendly.

"If you could arrange a hot bath for me that would be fine, so that I can wash the Khandoori road off my back." he said finally.

Without Gillian noticing it, Ogden came up from behind her.

"I am afraid we cannot oblige you with that good master. You see, our supply of fresh sweet water is running out. We have to use it very carefully." Ogden said.

"Why? What has happened to your water?"

"A while ago the water was mysteriously contaminated and stagnant. We have tried to clear it but it clods up again to no use."

"And what is the cause of this?"

Ogden nervously licked his lips, and Derrim noticed that all the other men in the room were paying close attention to their conversation.

"Well Pepin, that's our healer, believes it has something to do with the demons that lurk beneath our church."

The stranger showed no signs of astonishment at this comment, and that confirmed to Gillian what she had thought before. Derrim contemplated what Ogden had said for a second.

"That is alright. I mean to go into the labyrinth and kill all the nasty creatures that dwell there."

"Hah! You will have to master your blade like an angel to survive a minute down there," Gennard, one of the men at the other table exclaimed.

Derrim looked angrily at him and stood up.

"I am excellent with the sword, defeated by no one! You should be thankful that I am here, by the looks of it, I am your last hope," he snarled.

But the men only shook their heads and returned to their ale. To them he was just another one of those crazy adventurers that had passed through their town in an uneven stream in the past few months.

Like Gillian, they had given up to try and talk them out of it.

Derrim slowly sat down again.

"Perhaps you two would like to tell the story of what has happened to this town."

Gillian looked at Ogden and he gave her an almost an unnoticeable look, but Derrim registered it.

They sat down opposite of him.

"You go first." Ogden said to Gillian.

She wondered why Ogden had decided to tell this stranger their story. It had been a silent agreement amongst the townsfolk not to speak about their troubles to someone who had no business knowing.

Gillian had known Ogden for as long as she could remember, and she knew he wouldn't let anyone come to harm if he could help it.

She took a deep breath and prepared herself to relive the horrible night that would change all of their lives forever.

All had been well until a few months ago.

It was the time for the great harvest feast, one of the main holidays where they would have dances, games and lots and lots of food and drink. The Light had blessed them all with a very good crop this year and the whole town was buzzing with anticipation. Though it was early autumn, the summer still lingered on and the weather was as warm as midsummer.

The feast had been going on for three whole days as the tradition dictated, and it was on the evening of the final day it happened.

It was a beautiful starlit night, and thanks to the recent warm weathers the party took place at the clearing at the edge of the town. Everyone was having fun, singing and laughing together.

Suddenly Brinder, one of the farm hands, froze.

"Shh! Did you hear that?"

The people close to him stopped talking and listened. They could hear a distant sound of horses galloping, heading in their direction.

More and more people acknowledged the sound and it reached Gillian just as she was about to bend over to take an apple from a vat full of water.

She heard the thundering of the hooves coming closer and she was terrified beyond possibility. The sound seemed threatening and dangerous beyond belief.

A few of the people had started to run away to seek shelter, others remained at the same petrified state as Gillian. She saw her neighbours looking confused and disoriented when the party and play so suddenly had changed into terror

She could not move, her feet felt as they had grown into the ground.

The thundering sound was now deafening and seemed to fill the entire universe.

As Gillian stared into the void she began to discern shapes in the dark. Contours of giant horses with enormous dark riders on them. They wore long capes, flapping behind them in the wind. Their huge swords glimmered in the light of the torches, and their eyes shone with such great evil that Gillian grasped for breath.

That instantly broke her spell of immovability and she ran towards the town with solely one thought in her head; to get away from this terrible nightmare.

Some of the riders rode past the torches and tore them from the ground, but one of the horsemen broke loose from the group and started to pursuit Gillian.

She ran as fast as her legs could bear her yet the town seemed to remain at the same distance.

The horse was snorting close behind her and she feared that it would trample her down.

With the huge horse breathing down her neck Gillian reached one of the closest buildings. She threw herself over a low fence, ripping a tear in her skirt and wounding her knee.

The dark rider held in his horse and turned around for her.

Gillian crawled through the muddy ground until she reached a wooden door; she opened it and threw herself in.

She instantly felt that she was not alone in there and a scream began to work its way up through her throat. A silent oink was heard and Gillian realized she had ended up in Readith's pig sty.

The horseman drew his long sword and tried to poke it between the wooden boards. Gillian sobbed and pushed herself against the opposite wall. The pigs anxiously screamed and squeaked out their fear.

The dark man was furious he couldn't reach Gillian and in frustration he started to chop at the boards. With his immense powers, it wouldn't take long until he was through. The pigs stirred and panicked, looking for a way to escape but there was none.

Suddenly the chopping stopped and Gillian heard the dark rider leave. She didn't dare to breathe for almost a minute.

Then she slowly turned around, careful not to make any sound, she peeked through a hole in one of the boards.

Brinder had picked up a pitchfork and stood ready to face any opponent. And one he got. A dark rider came galloping towards him. Brinder could almost reach the stirrup of the horse. He raised the hayfork, ready to defend himself and stabbed it towards the rider who merely slapped it away with his hand. Then with just a swing of his huge sword, the dark rider had slain Brinder.

Gillian saw other men and women being tied up and dragged away behind the horses.

For an eternity, Gillian didn't dare to move. She became aware of that there were people crying wildly around her and the sound of the dark riders was heard no more.

She was so tense her muscles were aching.

Immensely slow Gillian crawled out of the pig sty.

"It's Gillian!" a voice she did not recognize called out.

"Gillian, are you alright?" and she felt arms around her and she could not hold back her tears any longer.

"May the Light preserve us! They rode into the church!" a woman cried.

"They told me later that it was Ogden who held me. I have no memory of it. And that is our story" Gillian concluded and wiped a tear from her eye.

Derrim was silent. He did not know what to say.

"The town's population was reduced by more than a half. Those who took up arms were cut down where they stood or dragged down into the labyrinth to become slaves – or worse," said Ogden.

Derrim let the story sink into his mind. He had not been prepared for this – evil.

"Why the church?" he thought out loud.

"We don't know. But a few centuries ago when the cathedral was built, they also made a labyrinth beneath it. They did so for protection against attacking enemies. If they were attacked, the townsfolk would flee into the church and hide in the labyrinth. The place is full of traps and such. Pepin, our healer, believes that the spring of our well is down there somewhere. A good place to hide 'tis."

"This is not like hunting a rabbit in the forest. If you go down there, you will get killed." Gillian outbursted.

Derrim looked at her.

"Now that I am here I might as well go down and have a look around."

"Do as you wish. I have customers to serve." she snapped and got up from the table.

Ogden sighed.

"I wish there was some way I could get her out of here. But everyone that has tried has been forced down into the labyrinth."

Ogden took a deep breath as if he prepared to say something really difficult.

"When the dark riders came, they also kidnapped our prince Albrecht. After that our Archbishop Lazarus led a party of the few remaining men down in to the labyrinth. I lost many good friends that day. Only a handful returned. Lazarus never did. I suppose he was killed also. Do you realize the danger of going down there?" Ogden said and looked Derrim straight in the eye.

"I can hold my own." he answered abruptly.

Derrim took a deep breath and tried to bring order to all the thoughts and feelings that had brought his mind to disorder.

"I will be needing a place to sleep. Do you have a room available?"

"Certainly. And I'll get you that hot meal now." Ogden said and rose from the table.

Derrim ate his stew under silence. He felt the curious looks from the men at the other table, but he didn't bother about them. He decided that he would go out and take a look around at the town.

Derrim walked up the main street to the town well and looked down. The water had a strange shade of yellow and the stench was nauseating. He hastily left the well.

"Greetings young man!"

Derrim heard a voice from behind and he turned on his heels.

There was an elderly man, perhaps sixty years of age but he looked older maybe due to the deep wisdom that was found in his whole appearance.

"My name is Cain. And you must be the latest saviour to arrive to our town. May I ask your name?"

Derrim didn't not like the tone of irony the old man had and he answered through clenched teeth.

"My name is of no importance. What do you want?"

"No need to be rude. I am Cain the elder, I know of many things. Fear not to seek me out if you need my help."

"I thank you." Derrim spat and made a gesture of leaving, but the man had no intention of getting out of the way.

Cain just simply looked at him from head to toe.

"You bear the sword of a Paladin. Yet you are none, am I right?"

"That is none of your business"

Cain was silent for a moment.

"Do you have a portal stone?"

"I do." said Derrim and hid his astonishment over such a direct question.

"See! You need my help already." the old man said.

"I should not think so." said Derrim and forced himself past him.

"I hope you do not plan to use it down in the labyrinth with all the monsters. They would come through it and wash over us like a tidal wave. And the remaining survivors would probably have you swinging from a tree for it."

Derrim stopped.

"And you mean of course that you can help me prevent this?" he said slowly.

"If you want,"

"I see. And what do you want in return?"

The old man's face grew dark and serious.

"I want the freedom of this town."

"Come; let's go outside the town walls," Cain said. "As you probably already know, the best place to bury a portal stone is in a road crossing where the energies are strong."

"Yes."

"Luckily, we have a crossing here where the Khandoori road meets the road to the church. Ah, here we are. Give me the stone. Oh, come on I am not going to steal it," he said when Derrim hesitated. Reluctantly, he picked up a small, oval blue stone from his pocket. Cain bent his knees and started to try to dig in the ground with his bare hands.

"It's no good," he said and looked at his dirty fingers. "The frost has made the soil too hard. Use your sword to loosen up the earth."

Derrim looked at Cain as if he just asked him to commit blasphemy.

"By the Light." Cain sighed. "Sometimes you warriors are a handful. Do you at least have a dagger?"

Derrim gave him his dagger and Cain loosened the earth with it.

"That will have to do." he said after a while. "I can't get any deeper, but I doubt any one will come this way and steal your stone." Cain said and carefully straightened his back.

Then he closed his eyes and held out his hand over the hole he just dug and started to mumble some words. Derrim could not hear what he was saying.

Then Cain took Derrim's hand and held it out under his own.

After a while he considered himself finished and opened his eyes.

"There. Now the only one who passes through this portal is you. No great magic, but I find the simpler spells to be of more use."

Derrim looked suspiciously at him.

"Why are you helping me?"

Cain stroked his goatee and weighed over on his heels, reluctant to answer.

"Gillian, the barmaid at the Inn, you have met her?"

"Yes"

"Her grandmother sometimes sees what is yet to be. She saw in a dream that a man with a sword of a holy warrior would come this way. And here you are"

Derrim dismissed Cain's words with a laugh.

"Oh really? Do I succeed?"

"Sometimes you may wish that you would have lost when a victory is dearly bought" Cain said and left Derrim puzzling over these cryptical words.

Derrim opened the door to the room that Ogden advised him.

It was burning in the fireplace and the room was comfortably warm.

There was nothing there but the bed and the fireplace and a small table to put a washbasin on, but now the table was empty.

Ogden appeared in the doorway.

"All's well, sir?" he asked.

"Yes, I am fine, thank you."

Derrim turned to the bed, already oblivious of Ogden who remained where he was. It startled him when Ogden after a few seconds spoke up again.

"I do not know if I am happy or sad to see you again," he said with a melancholic tone in his voice.

Derrim looked surprised at him.

"Yes, I recognized you. Not at first, I'll admit that. And I am probably the only one in town who has. You are Slyh´s boy Derrim, are you not?

Derrim nodded, not sure whether to be disappointed or glad that his bluff was called.

"I always thought they treated you rather cruel."

"You were the only one who was good to me, Ogden" Derrim said in a low voice.

"I wish there had been more I could have done, especially after Slyh's passing but..."

"Then I was gone." Derrim filled in.

He could see the questions in Ogden's eyes but Derrim ignored them.

Finally Ogden said:

"You certainly have changed! Back then you were smaller than a new born pig, and now... I can almost not reach your shoulders" he smiled at his own joke. But the height was probably the only thing that had changed. Ogden remembered Derrim as a small child with a strange intensity in his grey eyes. He always met the teasing from the other children coolly, without saying a word for his defence, but Ogden noticed that for every cruel word Derrim heard, for every beating he took, he grew harder inside. What Ogden did not know that it was the thought of one day be superior to his tormentors that kept him sane.

"I do not wish to send you down into the labyrinth, but strangely enough, your coming here has brought some hope to my heart."

Derrim felt a lump in his throat when he heard Ogden's words and could not think of anything to say.

"No I shan't keep you from your sleep. I was merely checking that everything was in order. Goodnight" Ogden said and left Derrim with memories of his childhood floating up to the surface.

He was back in the small cottage he shared with his father. Slyh had just awakened him by throwing a shovel on him.

"Get up you lazy rat" he shouted. "The constable was just here and they need a new grave to be dug. Old Riley has finally fallen into his eternal sleep, may the Light preserve the bloody idiot. Get up!"

Derrim was scarcely eleven years old but since his father recently had become more ill, it fell upon Derrim to do his work which was to dig graves, help out on the occasional hanging and the rest of the "damn idiots' dirty work" as Slyh said. A steady but somewhat uneven source of income. The boy's mother had died at his birth.

Derrim hurried out of bed to wash his face and eat a bowl of salty porridge to get out of the house as fast as possible so that he wouldn't aggravate his father more than necessary.

It was on a gusty and cold spring day when Derrim dug his last grave and that was for his father. He was only eleven and everyone in the town expected some one else to take him in. Ogden, only fourteen years of age himself asked his parents to let Derrim stay with them but he pleaded for deaf ears. No one wanted the son of the grave digger to live with them.

Fortunately for everyone in town, Derrim solved the problem himself. He simply vanished from Tristram and was never heard of. Some said he had been taken by a wolf in the forest, and some thought he had gotten all the way to the nearest city in Khanduras, and made a fortune on gambling.

None of the rumours were true. Derrim, wanting to put as much land between him and Tristram, had made his way east, mostly walking on his own feet but sometimes getting a lift with one of the trading caravans.

One brought him all the way to the Jewel of the Desert, the port city of Lut Gholein. He lived there a few months, earning a few coins here and there by some kind people and stole the food he needed.

Derrim used to listen to all the sailor's that entered the port of Lut Gholein stories of what they've seen. And one day he decided to move on, sneaking aboard a ship that was heading for Kurast. He was soon discovered of course, but the captain was a decent man and let him work on the ship for food.

Derrim liked Kurast. The stone buildings reminded him a little of home and there was an entire jungle outside the city limits to explore and he soon learned the language.

He continued to steal food but it wasn't always easy. The fruit dealers at the market were more observant than in Lut Gholein.

One day when Derrim was weak with famine, he simply went up to the fruit dealers stand, took one of the yellow kordozfruits and took a big bite from it without caring about anything but the feeling of sweet fruit in his mouth.

Naturally the dealer saw what he did and grabbed him.

"I suppose you are paying for that, no?" said the fruit dealer shaking him rather violently because he knew that Derrim was one of the poor street children and there was no way he had any money to pay for such an exclusive fruit.

"Here is money for the fruit Jalee," a voice from behind Derrim said.

"I thank thee, Master Paladin," said the fruit dealer in his most humble voice.

Jalee let go of Derrim who tumbled down on the ground.

When he looked up he saw a tall man in a dark robe with the hood down. The sun was behind him and to Derrim it appeared that the man was glowing of sunlight.

He lifted Derrim up.

"Come with me," he said and Derrim, thus owing him money did what he was told.

He followed the man through the crowds at the marketplace, and despite masses of people shoving and pushing at each other to get through, Derrim never lost sight of the man that had bid him to come. It was as if a little of the sunlight got stuck on him and gave him a slight glow.

After a while, the man stopped in front of some high, richly ornamented gates, and he waited for Derrim to catch up.

He opened the gates and showed with a gesture Derrim to enter. He did so.

At first he thought it was a castle, laying there surrounded by rich green trees and lawns of thick green grass, not burnt by the harsh sunlight. It was an enormous stone building with towers and pillars.

Without a word the man continued up to the huge door and opened it. They went in. Inside it was cool and the light was dull. Then Derrim realized that the man's glowing hadn't been an illusion caused by the sun but the man was actually radiant with a soft blue glow! Derrim simply stared at the man who just gave him a gentle friendly smile. His skin was dark, as most of the people in Kurast and his eyes were golden brown. His head was completely shaved.

"What is your name, boy?" he asked with a soft voice.

"D-Derrim, master."

"Well, Derrim, you can call me Brother Darius. Are you feeling any stronger?

Derrim had to admit that he did. In fact he felt better than he had in a long time. He was still hungry but it was like it didn't matter to him.

"Good! You see this glowing light is my aura and I used it to heal you. Would you like to learn how to do that?"

Derrim nodded, not sure what he should say.

They slowly started to walk through the long corridor.

"The brothers and I have seen you in the streets. We feel that there is a strong spirit in you and we have decided to take you in as an apprentice."

Derrim just gaped. He had seen a few Paladins in Kurast with their shiny armours, their beautiful swords and even dreamed of becoming one himself. This was like a dream come true.

"But I have to ask you" Brother Darius continued "Do you have the right faith? Do you believe in the Light?"

Derrim had been brought up with the teachings of Zakarum and the Light, but always thought it all as a fairytale and fearing this opportunity be lost he said yes.

And so Derrim was taken in as an apprentice in the Church of the Light with Brother Darius as his mentor. He was taught the teachings of Zakarum and trained in as well combat skills with the sword and mental practises to use his aura in different ways. With a varied result.

Derrim showed an astonishing talent for close combat, and soon became very skilled in fighting. For every time Derrim beat one of the other apprentices he felt better inside, as if something inside him healed and he loved the feeling of being better than the rest.

When he grew older he became so fast that the brother who educated in weapon mastery could not beat him, even in heavy armour.

On the opposite, the hours on end of mental training to enhance his aura for different kind of purposes didn't give him half the satisfaction and he was always so ill-tempered after such sessions that the others learned to stay clear of him.

Derrim wasn't very religious. He saw praying and other routines at the temple as a way to fight with the sword and never was very dedicated listener when the Brothers taught the gospel of Zakarum.

As he got older, Derrim began to participate in sword plays in the backstreets of Kurast against temple rules. It was a way to really show off his strength to others and the money he made was only a bonus.

He also learned that it was highly regarded to be trained as a warrior of the Light, also known as Paladins. Instead of being humble for the opportunity to serve the Light as a true Paladin would and should, Derrim felt proud when the people of Kurast looked at him and his fellow apprentices admiringly when they were out in the city to serve the community as part of the education.

According to the teachings of Zakarum, a true Paladin would get his calling through visions from the Light to where his or hers calling would be. Some of Derrim's mates began to have these visions to serve elsewhere for the Church of Light and some simply stayed in the temple continuing the work as a Brother.

Derrim began feeling restless. He realized he would never get such a calling because he simply did not have the faith. And the thought of staying in the temple until the end of his days made him feel like he was suffocating.

And so one day he went to brother Darius and asked to be tested in the Trials.

Brother Darius looked inquiringly at him.

"Do you feel like you are ready for that? Have you received a vision from the Light?"

"No Master, I have not. But I would like to be tried anyway."

"The Light will call you when you are ready. You cannot hurry it."

"But Master, I feel ready! I know the Light will accept me as a warrior," Derrim said impatiently.

Brother Darius was silent for a while and then he sighed.

"Alright. I will bring your wish to the High Priests."

"Thank you Master, you will not regret this!" Derrim nearly gave his mentor a hug of joy but managed to control himself.

The four High Priests looked down on Brother Darius, who felt rather small in the enormous hall, from their throne-like chairs. There was High Priest Hakryn, from the north dressed in a blue gown, High Priest Todelan from the south dressed in red, High Priest Ulysses from the west dressed in yellow and High Priest Hrolan from the east dressed in green.

The High Priests came from different temples in their respective quarter and that symbolized the almighty Light being everywhere.

The foremost temple was of course in Kurast.

"Bother Darius," High Priest of the South, Todelan, spoke in a thundering voice that echoed long in the hall. "What is your matter?"

"I beg of thee your Highness that my apprentice, Derrim, will be brought in front of you for the Trials."

"Has he received any vision from the Light?" High Priest Hrolan asked.

"No your Highness", Brother Darius answered truthfully, "He has been with us for fifteen years now and there is nothing more that I can teach him."

"But if there is no calling from the Light, then he cannot stand up to the Trials," said High Priest Hakryn.

"He was hoping for an exception to the rules. I know he feels restless here and perhaps a bit trapped within the temple walls."

"He you say? This is not on your recommendation, Brother Darius?"

"As I said, he has been here for some time now, ever since a boy. His skill in fighting is close to perfection. I have no doubt he would be excellent commanding a squadron of warriors."

"And how is his faith in the Light?"

Brother Darius chosed his words carefully, prepared that this question would come.

"To be honest, you Highness, I think he puts more faith in the sword than the Light. But that is not necessarily a bad thing. There is for example Saint Amaton, who made great things in the name of the Light with his squadron."

"True. But Saint Amaton accomplished these things with his faith, not despite of it." High Priest Ulysses spoke up.

"I know."

Brother Darius didn't know what else to say but to agree. The plea for his young apprentice hadn't gone as he had planned.

The four High priests exchanged looks.

"Very well, Brother Darius, you can bring your apprentice here within a week's time"

"Thank you your Highnesses!"

Derrim surprised his mentor as soon as he set his foot outside the door.

"Well?" he asked anxiously.

Brother Darius gave him a stern look.

"To tell you the truth I was not sure whether you were actually ready for the Trials.

"They said no?"

"They said yes, which astonishes me. You have had no calling of the Light what so ever, not even to remain here in the temple."

"Then they must have had very good reason to let me do the Trials. Wohoo!" Derrim cheered and ran off through the hallway.

"I suppose they must have." Brother Darius said to himself. "But you are a fool if you think it will be a bowl of cherries."

Derrim shook himself free of the memories, and to scatter the thoughts, he drew his sword. His highly beloved sword. The blade reflected a dull silvery glow and it was a beautiful handiwork of some excellent smith. The hilt bore four gems, one for each point of the compass, a sapphire for the north, an emerald for the east, a ruby for the south and a topaz for the west.

There was also room for a name to be engraved. It was said that the Light would bring a name to the sword's owner for him or her to engrave, and that would give magical powers to the sword.

Derrim had not yet had such a vision of a name.

"I am serving the Light by using this sword to clear the church for Tristram. I am serving the Light, with this sword." he said quietly to himself and put it back in its sheath.

Suddenly, he felt all the time spent on horseback the last few weeks, in every muscle in his body and he was asleep before his head had hit the pillow.

A scream pierced through the night and Derrim shot up out of bed and instinctively drew his sword.

There was a dead silence that seemed even louder after the horrifying scream and then another scream was heard. Derrim slowly moved towards the window as if he feared what would be seen outside.

It was a moonlit night, with the moon at its fullest and painted dark contours of the church. For the first time in his life, Derrim was terrified. The eerie sight of the church made him want to just run and scream out his fear but he did not move a muscle. He realized what he was up against and felt small and helpless. How could he believe he would make it out alive? Whatever it was down there would tear him to pieces.

He crawled back into the corner of the bed. Eventually, he fell into sleep, sitting with his sword ready to strike.

There were no more screams heard that night.

Gillian knocked lightly on the door. There was no answer so she opened the door and found Derrim sitting asleep on the bed with his sword drawn.

"Sir." she said quietly and in an instant Derrim flew up with the sword directed towards her.

"I- I am sorry Sir, but I knocked and there was no answer... "Gillian said.

Derrim suddenly remembered where he was and took the blade away from Gillian.

"The screaming." he said. "Did you hear them?"

"Everyone in town hears them every night Master."

"They were inhuman."

"Yes... I have not managed to get used to them yet."

Gillian put down the tray with breakfast she had brought to Derrim.

"Are you planning to go down the Labyrinth today?" she asked.

"Yes I am." Derrim said trying to hold his voice steady and not show to her how frightened he had been.

"Listen... I know Ogden is too kind to ask so that is why I am doing this. Money is a short supply these days, and if it is not too much trouble I would like you to pay for your stay."

Derrim realized that they did not expect for him to come back.

"Yes of course." he said and reached for a little bag and gave her two pieces of gold.

"One silver will do just fine, sir."

"Take it. Who knows how long I will be staying." he said with a smile.

"Well now you can stay until summer she said.

Derrim stepped outside, took a deep breath and filled his lungs with the raw autumn air. The weather was the same as the past three months, cloudy and cold. Not on single beam of sun managed to get through the thick clouds.

He was wearing what armour he had. A thick leather armour covered his upper body and a buckler, though worn; it still served its purpose. He could see the church from the tavern of the Rising sun and though still looking eerily, it did not scare Derrim half as much it had last night. He had regained his self confidence and was determined to go in and purge the Labyrinth of all evil.

The few villagers who were out this early morning, barely gave the newcomer a curious glance.

That annoyed Derrim. Did they not understand that he was different from the others? That he would succeed in defeating the demons?

With a snort towards the ignorant farmers he went to the church.

Up close, it gave more impression of a cathedral than a simple little town church. Derrim came to wonder why a small town like Tristram had such a remarkable building.

He opened the gate to the church yard and went up the gravelled walk.

Just outside the door laid a man in a pool of his own blood. Derrim hurried his steps to see of the man was still alive.

Blood was running from his nose and ears but he was still conscious.

"Are you alright?" Derrim asked though he knew this man was far beyond any healer's knowledge.

"The archbishop... Lazarus, he led us down here to find the King's missing son, Albrecht. The bastard led us into a trap. Now everyone is dead. He led us to a demon they called The Butcher. Please, find The Butcher and avenge us so that our souls may finally rest!" The man coughed some blood and then his life was gone.

Derrim who watched the man's life slip through his fingers said with clenched teeth: "Your death will be avenged!"

He stood up and went into the church.


	2. The Venturing

Disclaimer: I do not own Diablo or any of its contents. So please don't sue.

Author's note: This is my first shot at writing a fan fic. Reviews are welcome, praise and flame alike (but be constructive). Perhaps I should mention that English isn't my first language, so bear with me

The Venturing

Part II

The light that fell through the broken windows disclosed an unbelievable mess. Pews were scattered as if tossed around by some great force. Most of them were broken in two or several pieces.

Derrim drew his sword and carefully chose his steps in.

There was a strange odour that made him sick; it reminded him of rotting meat.

The altar was wrecked in two and though he wasn't religious or believed in anything more powerful than the swing of a sword, the sight of diabolical symbols that had been painted in blood across the walls and the holy artefacts that were mocked in such a reckless way that Derrim felt a lump in his throat of disgust.

"The sanctity of this place has been fouled!" he growled through clenched teeth.

According to Ogden, there would be an entrance to the labyrinth beneath the church somewhere in the sacristy but he did not know exactly where.

"Why this church? Why Tristram?" he thought.

He wondered if the monsters knew he was coming. The dead silence frightened him a bit.

"Thinking will not slay those monsters. Charge is the best defence," he thought and moved to the sacristy to see if there was anything that could be likened to an entrance to the Labyrinth.

It was even darker in there and Derrim wondered why he had not thought of bringing a torch.

After stumbling a few times over some unidentified objects he decided to wait until his eyes had adjusted to the lack of light. Soon after he came to a bookshelf that he threw over down on the floor and found a small door behind it.

He grabbed the ring handle and tried to open it but it was stuck and Derrim could not budge it. It took all of his strength and some bending with the sword to get the door open.

Inside there was a narrow stairway and the smell of rottening meat was even stronger.

He stopped, listening for sounds of anything at all, but there was none so he began to go down the stairs one step at a time.

Derrim's eyes had slowly adjusted to the darkness below and he could distinct grey shapes in the black and he marvelled over how huge the Labyrinth was. There were solid walls and a brick floor leading him to ponder how long time it would take to build such a thing.

A snuffling sound brought back his attention to the current situation and he stopped dead in his tracks. The snuffling came closer, straight towards him, like a blood hound sniffing the tracks of its prey.

Derrim felt his heart beat so hard and fast he feared it would break free out of its ribbed cage.

And then he felt something crawling around his knees and instinctively kicked whatever it was. A quacking sound was heard and then the beast attacked him again. This time Derrim was prepared and gave it a hard blow to the head with the broad side of the sword, crushing its skull.

A closer look disclosed that what had attacked him was no bigger than a cat or a small dog, but it was neither. Derrim had never seen such an animal that now lay before his feet, not with this much... evil written all over its ugly face.

"A rat." he thought. "Is this what the town of Tristram have feared all this time? Is this what had slain the would be heroes prior to my arrival? No, there must be bigger ferocities here." and in thought he returned to the slain townsman he had found outside the church. He had spoken of "The Butcher", some great demon that had killed nearly half of the few remaining men in the town led by the Archbishop Lazarus himself.

He slowly sneaked around a corner and found a staircase leading further down into the labyrinth.

Derrim went down; his ears were pricked up for any sound of enemies. He rested at the foot of the stairs.

Then there was a moaning sound behind him as from a deep grave and he rapidly jumped forward and turned around.

The sight made Derrim scream. It appeared to be a living corpse, moving with immensely slow motions towards him. The look in the red, glimmering eyes was empty and the grave like moaning sound made Derrim's skin crawl. The corpse reached for Derrim's neck and before he could do anything, he was locked in a firm grip.

Derrim panicked. He dropped the sword on the floor and started clawing with his fingers on the corpse's arms, desperate for air.

"This is it," he thought. "Now I'm done for. I wish I've never returned to this forsaken hell hole."

Gillian sat down on a stool back in the kitchen and rested her feet for a second. Business was slow nowadays.

Ogden's wife, Garda, was busying herself with baking some bread. Her stout, jovial personality was comforting to Gillian in this time of despair.

"I heard a new adventurer has arrived" Garda said.

"Yes, he went down into the labyrinth today. I don't expect we'll see him again."

"You'll never know, that young man could be the one in your grandmother's dream"

Gillian fidgeted uncomfortably on the stool she was sitting on. She did not quite know how to be when it came to her grandmother's ability. She could sometimes foresee things in her dreams and not seldom the precognitions came to be true.

A few nights ago the old woman's screaming had awoken Gillian. She had rushed in to her grandmother to wake her up from the nightmare she was having. The old woman was shivering with fear and could not speak for several minutes. Then Gillian finally understood that she had dreamt of the hero coming to town and saving them.

"It's alright. You said he was saving us all, weren't you?" Gillian tried to calm her grandmother down.

"Those who wage battle against demons may find that it is not the body that take the greatest scars."

And that was all the old woman was willing to say about her dream.

Gillian feared that the dream was yet another precognition.

Derrim found that hanging in the grip of an undead and not quite be able to reach the floor with his feet was a really unpleasant experience.

For a split second he wished that he had payed more attention during the mental training so he at least could have enhanced his aura into a thorny shield.

And then he remembered the Holy bolt. A bolt to banish the undead, something he actually had managed to learn because it was one of the combat skills.

He forced himself to relax the muscles though the situation was desperate. Then he focused hard and a called upon the power to rise from within him and manifesting itself into a blue bolt. It shot right out of his hands and hit the corpse in the chest.

They both tumbled to the floor and Derrim gasped for breath, his throat hurting by the air.

He lay there for several minutes until his breathing returned to normal and then stood up, reached for his sword and went on further into the labyrinth.

After hours of fending off demons and monsters of every shape and size, he sank down with his back against the wall to rest. Surprisingly enough, the only injuries he had suffered was some small cuts and bruises. Most of the time he had just barely made it out alive.

Derrim was weary and his muscles ached. He wondered if he should cast a town portal spell and go back to town for some rest, but then decided that this short, well needed rest would have to make due.

Derrim let his thoughts wander and the thought of Gillian came to his mind. She had not wanted him to venture down here because of the danger and terror and, indeed, there was more of that than Derrim had expected.

The concern for his life had moved him. He was not spoiled with that and never had been.

Derrim surprised himself with the longing to see her again, to tell her that. He wanted to fight his way back to her the very instant.

He sighed and reluctantly prepared himself to go on.

Then he realized he had been staring into a hole in the opposite wall for several minutes. He hastily got up from the floor and examined it. It appeared to be a tunnel, and it was just barely big enough for Derrim to squeeze through.

"This might be shooting an arrow blindfolded, but this is the closest thing I have come to something that could lead me to a well. So, here it goes," he thought and crawled in.

"Hope I don't get stuck half way in," he muttered and cursed the soil that trickled down his neck.

But soon the little tunnel seemed to widen and he could see a faint light up ahead.

Just as Derrim was about to squeeze himself out of the tunnel, he saw a hideous beast, blocking his way. It had the body of a man, but the feet and head was that of a goat. It had a huge mace in its hand and was walking back and forth in front of the hole as if standing guard. Before Derrim could decide what to do, the goat man had discovered his presence and started poking at him with its mace.

As fast as he could, Derrim started to crawl backwards into the tunnel.

The goat man soon followed, and when Derrim was clear out of the tunnel he had but to wait for the goat man to show its ugly head. With a swift swing of his sword, he had separated the demon's head from its body.

"Thank the Light you are all so stupid" Derrim said.

And then he pulled out the demon's body and crawled back through the tunnel.

He got up on his feet and looked around. He had ended up in a small cave. The stench was the same as the town's well, but Derrim could also feel the smell of fresh water around.

He knew there would probably be other foul demons around, so he readied his sword and went to explore the cave.

Soon he came upon an underground stream. It had the same ill colour of yellow as the water up in the well. Suddenly Derrim was once again under attack and he did his best to keep the monsters from harming him.

When he finally managed to finish the demons off, he noticed how the water sprung out with a clear spring, washing all the filth away.

"The mere presence of the demons caused the water to be contaminated?" he thought in disbelief.

He looked around, but there were no more monsters to be found.

Derrim felt proud of his accomplishment and he could see the townsfolk gratitude vividly in front of him.

He was soon back in the Labyrinth again, and decided he would make for one more level before he went back up to town to receive their thanks.

When Ogden had spoken of as much as up to between four and five levels, Derrim had only shaken his head in disbelief.

But now, when he was at the foot of the stairs to the fourth one, the thought did not seem all that impossible. And he agreed with Ogden, it was an excellent place to hide!

This new level of the Labyrinth gave no surprises in displaying different monstrosities. Derrim had gotten used to their evil looks and tricks. His lithe body was swift and his sword sharp and only that helped a long way.

"Aah, fresh meat!" a demonic voice cried out and Derrim found himself face to face with a demon nearly twice his own size, with a cleaver great as an axe.

It came towards him with great speed and Derrim's only choice was to throw himself sideways to escape the swinging of the cleaver. The monster chased after him through the halls of the Labyrinth.

Derrim despaired. How could he ever hope to beat such a demonic creature?

The chasing went on for what Derrim felt like hours and he became so worn out that he tripped over with fatigue.

"Prepare yourself for death, mortal," the demon howled and took a swing at him with his great cleaver.

Derrim managed to block it with his little buckler that cracked in to two pieces and hurt his arm.

The demon took yet another swing, but this time Derrim was more prepared and he rolled over to the side. Then he counter swung his sword, cutting the demons arm right off. The Butcher gave a furious cry. Derrim quickly got up and took the cleaver from the floor and with all of his strength; he buried it in the demon's chest.

Derrim sheathed his sword and took the cleaver for a trophy. Then he cast a town portal spell that opened a blue oval portal. Derrim stumbled through it and fell to the ground right where he and Cain had buried his portal stone.

"I will just lay here for a minute and catch my breath," he thought and closed his eyes.

He found himself falling down a deep abyss, a grave. He saw the demons leaning over him, filling his vision. They laughed at his terror and panic which he fought hard not to display.

Derrim tried climbing up but when his hand reached the edge of the grave one of the goat men stepped on his hand with his hoof. Derrim screamed with pain and fell back down again. The demons began throwing down heaps of dark soil and dirt, filling the grave very rapidly. When he tried to scream, he could hear the demon's frenzied laughter as from a distance.

When the darkness faded, a beautiful, blonde woman clad in a long white dress came towards him. She looked at Derrim with tears in her eyes.

"Why are you so sad?" he asked.

"I am sad for you, my son. There is no more hope for you."

"Why do you say that?"

"You should not have taken the sword."

"I am using the sword for a good cause. I am saving Tristram!"

"It was wrong to steal the sword!"

"No! NO!" he cried back as he ran from his mother

"It's all right. Calm down!"

Derrim opened his eyes. He was back in his room at the inn. Gillian

was sitting on his bed and behind her Derrim hinted Cain, and another man he did not recognize.

"What happened?" he said with a rattled voice, his throat feeling like a desert.

"Some of the lads found you lying by the crossing. You've been out for two days,"

Gillian's soft voice was soothing and Derrim relaxed.

"Indeed you are lucky to be alive. Your wounds were so infected that I did not have much hope for you at all" the unknown man smiled.

"This is Pepin, our healer," Cain spoke for the first time. "We found a cleaver big as an axe beside you. Is it true as we assume that you have slain this demon that they called 'The Butcher'?"

"Yes."

"And our well is clear with fresh water, is that also your doing?" Pepin asked.

Derrim nodded.

"That is great news indeed, a real victory to celebrate," the healer said and clapped his hands.

"I am not finished yet. There are still monsters left beneath the church that I have to take care of," Derrim said and tried to get out of his bed when a wave of dizziness came over him.

"Not so fast young man. You still need to recover your strength and I think we can all safely say that you have earned as much as a few days of bed rest," Pepin said.

Derrim felt too tired to argue and sank back to the pillow again.

"Get some sleep and you will regain your strength in no time," Gillian said.

Before they all had left the room, Derrim was asleep.

When he awoke, the room was dark save for a lit candle. His head felt better than it had for days. His left arm was bandaged and was throbbing with a dull pain

The flickering light caused shadows running across the walls and the ceiling. Derrim watched them and let his thoughts wander. He refused himself to think of the nightmare he had had, instead he toyed with the idea of how grateful the townspeople would be when he had won this battle against the demons.

Suddenly, he realized the shadows were no longer playing on the wall but seemed to have stepped out into the room. They began to take the shapes of the hideous beasts he had seen down in the Labyrinth, one of the scavengers he had first encountered and a skeleton with a bow slung on its back.

Derrim reached for his sword at the side of the bed, but found it was not there.

The demons just grinned at him and slowly crept closer to the bed.

"What do you want?"

Their red eyes glimmered with scornful contempt

"What do you want? Go away!" he cried in panic.

The foul beasts just seemed to laugh at him and with a growl the small one jumped up on the bed.

Derrim, though embarrassed about it, screamed at the top of his lungs.

Gillian soon came rushing in with Cain closely following her and the demons instantly dissolved.

"Where's my sword! Give me my sword!"

"Calm down. It is over here by the wall." Gillian said and handed it to him.

"What happened? Why were you screaming?"

"The demons. They were in here."

They looked at him in disbelief.

"I'm telling you they were in here, on my bed!"

"You must've had another nightmare." Cain finally said.

Derrim fought the wish to argue and instead sank back to the pillow.

"It is good that you are awake though, we need to speak," the old man said.

"About what?

Cain slowly sat down on the chair beside the bed. He, who had seemed so vigorous earlier, suddenly appeared to have aged many years in only minutes.

"Maybe the time has come to reveal who I am" he said. "My name is Deckard Cain, and I am the last descendant of an ancient brotherhood sworn to fight the demonic forces of hell."

He paused for a while and then went on.

"Curse me for a fool! I should have foreseen the archbishops' treachery even when the king's son Albrecht was kidnapped. The heavens only know what has happened to him. He has probably been used for dark rituals… or worse. You must hurry and rescue Albrecht from the hands of Lazarus. The prince and the people of this kingdom are counting on you!"

Derrim suddenly felt the burden of responsibility grow heavy on his shoulders. There were so many lives depending on him.

It was a cold and windy day when Derrim was to set out and go through the portal again. Pepin the healer had salved his arm with a painkiller, but how long that would last, Derrim did not know. The healer had objected to Derrim going down back into the Labyrinth, but there was no way of stopping him.

He had a brand new steel armour, a shiny helmet, and a new shield donated by the townsfolk.

Derrim looked around at all the people who had gathered outside the inn to see him off. He saw hope in their eyes, and he realized that that's what he was to them. Hope. No one else had come this far and survived. The thought brought tears to his eyes and he swore to himself that he would be worthy of their trust.

Gillian was standing in the doorway to the inn. Derrim walked up to her.

"Gillian… When all this is over, I will buy you a stoup of ale here at the inn."

"Well then, you better make it out alive then."

"Don't worry. Heroes do not die" he said with a smile

He started to walk towards the portal and the people gathered followed him there as he went through and the portal closed behind him.

Seeing the stone walls of the Labyrinth again and the Butchers' corpse gave Derrim a sick feeling to his stomach.

For a brief second, he thought of the possibility go back to town and give up, but he pushed that thought back before even thinking it to the end.

He could not go back now, not when he so proudly promised them victory.

With a sigh, he drew his sword and prepared find some kind of staircase to go further down.

After hours of searching after a staircase, Derrim realized that there was nothing of the kind to be found. The closest he could find that resembled a stair was a large hole in the wall as if someone just had dug it with his bare hands. It sloped abruptly downwards, and Derrim took a few trying steps in.

As he went down it, he realised that it was getting significantly hotter; the air was stuffier and harder to breathe. Sweat broke out underneath his new armour.

Suddenly he found that the roughly carved steps in the soil were not there anymore.

Instead he stepped on something hard and white.

"I must be getting close" Derrim muttered when he realized that what he was walking on, and indeed the whole structure of the walls, was made of bone.

Almost instantly he was attacked by what seemed to be an eight feet tall worm with long blades in each of its four arms. There was a ringing sound when Derrim's sword met the knives. Then he held up his shield for the next attack and quickly stabbed the worm with the sword and with a shriek it fell to the ground.

Derrim had hardly drawn his breath when a yellow bolt flashed by his ear. He quickly spun around to find an exquisitely beautiful woman with long black hair, huge black wings tinged with blue and above all she was completely, utterly naked.

He stared at her, unable to find a thought in his head. She just smiled a malicious smile and raised her arm and sent another bolt. It hit Derrim right in the chest and he tumbled backwards.

His skin burned and he gasped for the air that the bolt had knocked out of his lungs. Then he noticed that the woman was standing above him, still smiling.

"Your adventure has gone far enough, little friend. It ends here!" she said and raised her arm towards Derrim's chest again.

"No". He whispered with the little air he had gained, and just when she sent away the yellow bolt he managed to roll over on the side and the bolt hit the bare ground. Derrim quickly got up on his feet. The demon raised her upper lip and exposed two white fangs, and in anger that her prey had gotten away, she growled.

Derrim was panting heavily and his chest hurt like seven hells. The demon sent another bolt that he just managed to dodge. But when he tried to go after her, she ran away and he had to chase her through the endless halls.

Finally he managed to get her cornered and he instantly killed her, feeling greatly satisfied that the frustrating hunt was over.

Derrim slowly kneeled to the ground. He was tired and his chest felt like it was on fire.

"It probably needs a healer's attention, but can I afford to go back one more time?" he thought to himself.

He felt he lacked the strength to cast a town portal spell and instead he crawled in to the corner where the demon he had just slain still lay and then he curled up, just for a short rest, hoping that no one or nothing would notice him.

Derrim woke up with a start. He had not realized that he had fallen asleep.

"Very bad" he muttered. "Some hero that gets slain in his sleep."

He rose and slowly straightened his aching muscles.

He picked up his sword and went off to explore the eerie halls.

After a while Derrim noticed a sign on the floor. It was a huge pentagram in bone.

As he stepped up into it a red portal opened.

He had learned as much when trained as a Paladin that red portals did not lead back to town.

"This cannot be good." He thought to himself. "But my mission here is to find the prince and so I will do."

And then he walked into the red portal.

He found himself standing on a teleport ring in a room much like the Labyrinth. Everything was dead quiet and he could hear his own heartbeat, pounding like a drum.

At the other side of the room, Derrim could hint a door and slowly began to move towards it, trying to be as quiet as possible in his steel armour.

He slowly but surely opened the door.

The open door revealed another one of those winged nightmares he had encountered before. Only this one had red wings and hair red as a raging fire and she shot a red bolt that burned a hole in the door.

Without thinking, Derrim instantly threw himself at her and killed her.

Then he found himself standing in the middle of a long corridor and he crept closely to the wall to the left. His venturing was soon stopped by a red bolt that hit the wall right before his nose.

At his left there was more of the same demon he had just killed. But he soon realized that there were no way he could reach them, they were behind bars. He could only try to dodge the bolts that kept coming at him. One hit him in the shoulder and it felt like it was struck by ice. Derrim grabbed his hurt shoulder and ran.

He came to two doors that seemed to be leading to the same room, so he opened one of them and went in. It was narrow corridor that seemed to turn left up ahead. It did not take long until his shield was hit by another red bolt.

Derrim held his shield high, and went in and ended up in an inferno of red bolts coming from everywhere around him. He blindly swung his sword at first, but did not hit anything. Then he realized he had to try for a different approach. By experience he knew the only way to kill them was to hunt them down one at a time.

He crept closely to the wall with his shield held high against the bolts, and soon he came to the corner where the room turned left.

When one of the winged women came to close, Derrim instantly killed her with a swing of his sword. That seemed to scare the others off, they scattered around the room and Derrim took his chance and started chasing after the closest one.

After an hour of chasing, he had killed all of the demons in the room. Almost his entire body felt like ice after the hits it had taken. He sank down to the floor, shaking and shivering and his teeth were chattering.

When it seemed as an eternity had gone by, Derrim slowly rose, and the cold was not as bad anymore.

Opposite to him, in a little alcove in the corridor, he could discern two rings. One to the left and one to the right. When he took a closer look, he discovered that they were so called teleport rings and even with open spell books next to them each on a pedestal.

Derrim had learned enough when trained as a Paladin to know to handle teleport rings with care. So instead he withdrew to explore what was right of the alcove. He had seen two doors much like them he came in from.

He carefully opened the door and waited, but nothing happened so he dared to go out.

There was yet another corridor in front of him and if Derrim calculated right, which he thought he did, he could come around and end up where he started.

He silently snuck out, carefully listening for any sound. In the distance he could hear the familiar chatter of those winged demons. Despair tore at his heart. He was still shivering from the hits he had taken before and he did not know if he could take much more. Then the thought of Cain came to his mind. And Gillian. And he forced himself to take one more step.

Further down in the corridor, he could see a red wing flapping against some bars.

"So, I can't reach them through there" Derrim thought and silently went back to examine the teleport rings.

Back in the room, he cursed the fact that he had not payed more attention when the Brothers had taught of the Secret language, the tongue of spells. Then he would at least know where he would end up if he spoke the spells that were in the books.

The only two words that were familiar to him were Daimon, demon, and Jenoda. Beware.

Derrim examined the other book and the same two words were there too. He went back to the teleport ring from which he had come and stood upon it but nothing happened. Derrim cursed quite a while.

After he was done cursing every demon in the seven hells, he went back to the room with the two teleport rings. He knew he had to try one of them; the question was simply which one.

After contemplating a while he chose the right one and stepped up onto it. Its signs instantly began to glow and he turned to the book and spoke in a loud, firm voice:

"Jenoda! Haverinos tam daimon!"

When he opened his eyes he saw five of the red winged demons glaring at him. Scornful smiles revealed white fangs. Then one of them slowly raised its arm and a red bolt shot out of its open palm. Derrim instinctively raised his shield just in time. Then with a cry, he threw himself at the demons. The winged nightmares scattered and Derrim had but to follow them and kill them one at a time while he was under constant attack of red bolts.

He kept moving so that he would be a harder target. Though he got a few hits, he was overall satisfied when the demons lay dead on the floor.

Derrim soon discovered that he had ended up in one of the smaller rooms behind bars, although the bars were gone now.

"I guess the other teleport ring will get me to the other room" he thought and went back to the room with the teleport rings. He stood upon the other one and spoke the spell:

"Jenoda! Veritos du daimon!"

As he already had figured out he ended up in the other room facing more demons.

After about an hour of chasing them he had finished them all off.

"What now?" he thought. "How do I get out of here?"

He went back to try the two teleport rings but nothing happened. Then Derrim remembered the teleport ring he had first come from and went back to try that.

Instantly he felt that he was being teleported somewhere.

What he saw made the very blood grow cold in his veins.

There was a man in a long blue robe; it was indeed the Archbishop Lazarus himself. In one hand he had a long staff, and in the other was a knife raised high in the air, ready to strike.

Before him, lying on a coffin was a boy whose chest was covered in blood. Derrim could not tell if he was alive or not.

The Archbishop looked up and saw Derrim. He gave him a malicious smile.

"Abandon your foolish quest. You are too late to save the child. Now you will join him, in Hell."

And then Lazarus directed his staff towards Derrim and a yellow bolt shot out of it.

Derrim parried with his shield, and made a dash towards the Archbishop with his sword ready.

But when he reached Lazarus, he dissolved into thin air, leaving a surprised Derrim behind.

He spun around and saw the Archbishop standing behind him. Derrim quickly threw himself at him and managed to strike with his sword. And thus, the chase went on, until Derrim could strike the final blow and watch the Archbishop Lazarus turn into dust.

"Your madness ends here, betrayer!" he said to the pile of ashes.

He examined the boy lying motionless on the coffin. There was no life left in him.

Derrim felt weary, as if he had gone through fifteen rounds of swordplay in the backstreets of Kurast. He decided to cast a town portal spell.

The first one he met when walking back to town was Cain. Derrim told him what he had experienced.

"Your story is quite grim, my friend" Cain said. "Lazarus will surely burn in hell for his horrific deed. But the boy you speak of is not our prince. I fear Albrecht may yet be in danger. The symbol of power that you speak of must be a portal into the very heart of the Labyrinth. Know this; the evil you move against is the Lord of Terror, known to mortal men as Diablo. He was imprisoned in the Labyrinth many centuries ago. You must go through the portal and destroy Diablo before it is too late!"

Derrim froze when he heard the name Diablo.

"Fine" he said finally. "But I will need some rest before I venture through the portal"

"There is no time to rest, young man" Cain said. "Time is moving against us, you must hurry!"

Derrim sighed and turned around to go trough the town portal. As he went trough it, he heard Cain's voice calling from behind.

"Remember, victory is your only option!"

He was back at the huge pentagram. It was now pulsating with a red glow. In the middle of it was a dark hole.

"I guess this is the way down to Diablo himself" Derrim thought. He took a deep breath and jumped through the hole.

The first thing he became aware of was the numerous enemies that surrounded him. Various kinds of hell spawned demons were glaring at him.

Derrim gave a war cry and bolted towards the closest one. Bolts were coming from all around him, hitting him with both hot and cold.

He soon realised that there was no way of beating everyone, so he started to run, looking for a way out.

He ran and ran, with the bolts hitting him from everywhere. And then he stumbled upon a lever made of bone. Not knowing what else he could do, Derrim pulled the lever.

"What happened?" he thought. But seeing no immediate change, he started to run again.

After running for what seemed hours, Derrim came upon another lever.

He pulled it, but was to weary to run again. Instead he swung his sword, and tried to kill as many as he could.

Suddenly, a demon twice his own height stood before him. Its skin was crimson, and horns were protruding out from its back and face.

Derrim swung his sword, knocking the demon back, but it only came forward again.

Flames shot out of the demon's hands, hitting Derrim's shield.

Derrim stabbed and stabbed blindly with his sword, thinking of nothing else but to kill this horrible demon.

And so, with all of the strength he could muster, he stabbed the demon right through. Blood came gushing out of its chest and a terrible demonic cry was heard.

Derrim looked upon the demon and realised that it was Diablo – The Lord of Terror he had slain.

A tremendous feeling of relief came over him.

And as he examined the corpse closer, he saw a stone glimmering in the demon's forehead. Derrim pulled out his dagger and managed to poke the stone out. On one end it was round, but the other end was sharp and pointy like a knife. The stone had an ill colour of yellow.

As he held the stone in his hand, the corpse began to wither until there was nothing left but a little boy.

Derrim put his fingers to the boy's throat to check for a pulse, but there was none. The boy was cold and lifeless. He closed the boy's eyes, and held the hilt of his sword to his chest in honour of the boy for a few minutes.

And so a vision came over him so strong that he gasped for air. Suddenly he realised with an almost painful clarity what the name of his sword should be. Derrim raised his sword high in the air and cried: "Sword, your name shall be Doom Song!"

Please, review!


	3. Where no shadows lie

Disclaimer: I do not own Diablo or any of its contents. So please don't sue.

Author's note: This is my first shot at writing a fan fic. Reviews are welcome, praise and flame alike (but be constructive). Perhaps I should mention that English isn't my first language, so bear with me

Thank you for all the reviews!

Where no shadows lie

Part III

As Derrim emerged from the Labyrinth, he could see faint sun beams piercing through the thick clouds.

He was weary as all the ordeals down in the dungeon caught up with him in every step. As he walked down the gravelled walk, the first snowflakes began to fall.

When he reached the town square, all the people there stopped to look at him.

In answer, he held his sword triumphantly high and the people began to clap their hands and to cheer.

Though Derrim felt proud, his mind did not for a second stray from the thought of the stone in his pocket.

The town folk approached him.

"What is your name, son?" one of the men asked. But Derrim only shook his head, too weary to answer.

"A most humble servant of the Light" a voice said. "He will not even tell us his real name."

It was Cain who spoke.

Derrim looked at him to find out if it was ironically meant or not, but the old man's face was expressionless.

Back at the Tavern of the Rising sun, Derrim tumbled into bed.

When he awoke, Gillian was sitting beside his bed and she was smiling. It was the first time since he arrived to Tristram, that she had done that. It made his heart all warm.

"What are you smiling about?" he asked.

"I am smiling because we are free. And you saved us! I don't know how we will ever repay such a debt, but there will be a grand celebration tonight here at the tavern".

"You don't owe me anything"

"Well, a party is the least we can do"

She got up and left the room.

Derrim checked his pocket to see if the stone was still there. Then he fell back to sleep.

When darkness had fallen, Derrim descended from the upper floor. He had tied a string around the stone and hung it around his neck. It was now safely hidden by his shirt.

He first saw Gillian, who gave him another heart warming smile and spontaneously came up and gave him a hug. Derrim felt confused as it gave him feelings he had never felt before. He staggered a little for his legs felt like jelly.

Gillian laughed warmly at his expression.

"You haven't hugged many girls, have you?" she said and caressed his cheek. Then she left, leaving Derrim with his whole inside in an uproar.

The party went on and everybody wanted to speak with the hero. When they asked him his name he only shook his head or said "My name is not important". He could not explain exactly why he said so, not even to himself. He had dreamt of this moment when he revealed who he was to everyone that had been mean to him in his childhood. But now it was as if something held him back.

Gillian took a mug of ale and held it high in the air.

"To our hero" she said and everybody did the same and toasted Derrim and drank to his good health.

He smiled, but to Gillian it seemed as if the smile did not quite reach the eyes.

Derrim was back at his room at the inn. He heard a light knock on the door, and half expecting Gillian, he bid the knocker to enter.

It wasn't Gillian, but Janis, one of the younger women in town. She gave him a big smile that Derrim all too well knew what it meant.

"Look, I…" he started but Janis interrupted him.

"I thought you might want some company" she said, still smiling.

"Oh, uhm… I am really tired, so I was going to go to bed now".

"What a coincidence, so was I" she said and resolutely reached to unbutton his shirt, but Derrim clasped her wrists suddenly mortally afraid that she would find the stone hidden by the cloth.

"Ow, you're hurting me!"

"Strangle her" a deep voice spoke.

"Did you hear that?"

"Let me go!" she cried.

Derrim just stared at the girl intently, unable to form a thought of his own. Janis saw the wolf eyed look in his eyes, sobbed, and with great effort managed to pull away from his tight grip and ran out the door.

Derrim looked down at his empty hands, suddenly coming to his senses again. He ran downstairs to find Janis but the common room was empty, except for Gillian who gave him an odd look.

"I… I" he started but found he had no words of explanation. So he just turned on his heels and went back up again, leaving a puzzled Gillian.

"What happened?" he thought. "What was that voice? And where did it come from?"

He opened his shirt and brought out the stone and weighed it in his hand. It felt strangely light.

The colour reminded him of sulphur. He touched the pointy end with his fingertip. It was sharp like the point of a dagger. The other end was perfectly round. Derrim tucked the stone back under his shirt.

The day after the grand celebration, Derrim stood on the street outside the tavern. It was a beautiful day with the sun shining from a clear blue sky. Snow had covered everything, and to Derrim it felt like the whole town was being cleansed.

In his hands there was a sword he had retrieved from the Labyrinth and he had a particular goal in mind as he wandered down the streets.

Many a townsfolk came up to greet him and everyone wanted to ask about the Lord of Terror and how he managed to slay him. Derrim gave them the story and perhaps altered a few details to make his deed sound even more heroic.

A while later he was at the blacksmith's shop. A man, almost as wide as he was tall came to meet him.

"Hail to thee, warrior of the Light" he greeted jovially. "I am Griswold, the blacksmith."

"Good wishes to you, Griswold. I have something for you, you cannot refuse" Derrim smiled.

"I like the sound o' that"

Derrim brought out the beautiful sword he had found and gave it to Griswold.

"What do you say? Isn't she a beauty?"

"Aye. I s'pose you recovered this down the Labyrinth?"

"I did"

"I'm sorry, but I can't take it off your hands. I wouldn't be able to sell it"

"Why not? It's a beautiful sword, and the handiwork is just excellent"

"Aye… But once people find out that you found this down the Labyrinth, they tend to shy away from it, with the demons and all"

"But you don't have to tell them that, do you?" Derrim was getting more and more irritated by this stupid man.

"Aye… But I'd know"

And with that he indicated that the conversation was over.

"Go with the Light" Derrim spat and went back to the inn.

Derrim awoke with a start. The dream had been so vivid. He had been back at the Labyrinth, facing Diablo once again. But this time it was the Lord of Terror that had the sword, and he had run the blade straight through Derrim's body. The demon laughed a weird, twisted laughter and licked the blood off the blade. While Derrim felt all of his strength leave his body the horrible demon spoke up.

"Listen you little maggot. You must travel east. East I say!" and then he laughed again.

The days passed. Derrim mostly stayed at his room at the inn. Troubled by nightmares during the night, the only time he could find some rest was during the day.

Derrim sat in the bed, and staring at the opposite wall.

His pride and joy in life, the Paladinian sword Doom Song, was leaned against the wall. He never carried it no more.

His mind wandered and, suddenly, the memories he had buried so deep in his soul came back.

Once again he was before the four High Priests piecing looks that made him feel like sinking through the floor.

"Apprentice Derrim" High Priest Hakryn spoke. "You stand before us here today to face the Trials. What say you?"

"I realize the great honour that you have bestowed upon me with letting me do the Trials, without receiving a calling from the Light. But I hope I will be found a worthy warrior of the Light"

"Well spoken Apprentice Derrim. The first Trial you will face is beating Brother Tyus in sword play"

Derrim nodded and prepared himself to face Brother Tyus. This Trial was the only known one. No one except the High priests and the Brothers knew what the other tests consisted of.

Brother Tyus prepared himself. Derrim felt calm inside. He had already beaten brother Tyus several times in practise.

There was a circle in the floor that they were supposed to fight within.

"Brother Tyus, Apprentice Derrim, step into the circle"

They were given wooden swords to fight with. Derrim gave his mentor, Brother Darius, a confident smile.

"The rules are, the first one to step out of the circle have lost. And the first one who gets three touches with the sword on the other ones body have won. Let the Fight begin!" High Priest Ulysses said.

Derrim made a few trying swings with his sword that Brother Tyus easily parried and he touched Derrim two times with the tip of his sword before he could parry.

Derrim soon noticed that Brother Tyus was doing everything he could to beat him. But that only incited him to do his very best.

He kept out of the way of Brother Tyus' sword and rapidly thrust two hits in the Brothers chest.

"The score is two – two" High Priest Hrolan spoke.

The swordplay went on, neither combatants willing to give in.

Finally Derrim jabbed his wooden sword into Brother Tyus' arm.

"Apprentice Derrim, you have passed the first trial"

Derrim had to bite his lip to prevent himself from cheering wildly.

"The second Trial is that of mental capacities. Apprentice Derrim, you will first summon a Holy Bolt.

Derrim nodded and took a deep breath, and began focusing on the power within him. He felt the power rise and rise until a blue bolt shot right out of his hands and hit the opposite stone wall.

"Very good Apprentice Derrim. Now, enhance your aura into the one they call Prayer, the healing aura. You may sit down for this one"

Derrim sat down on the floor, and tried to block out all thoughts of everything but calling forth the healing aura. He relaxed his muscles, hoping by some divine miracle he would actually succeed in bringing forth the aura. He tried and tried until sweat broke out on his body.

"Apprentice Derrim, your time is up"

"No! Just a little more. I can do it, I know I can!"

"Your time is up!"

Derrim noticed his nose was bleeding. He wiped the blood with his arm

"This is not fair; you didn't give me enough time!"

"Apprentice Derrim, you were given a full well half an hour to complete the second Trial, which is a lot more than you have when one of your comrades is dying. You have failed the second Trial" High Priest Ulysses said.

The four High Priests gathered around some strange pedestal that was covered with a purple silk cloth. High Priest Ulysses brought out a beautiful sword. Derrim could see the golden hilt was adorned with four gems, one red, one yellow, one green and one blue. He instantly felt a wave of desire washing over him. He wanted that sword, no matter what.

"Apprentice Derrim, kneel to the Orb"

Derrim did what he was told and kneeled in front of the pedestal.

High Priest Hrolan took the cloth and revealed a perfectly round glass orb.

"This Trial is the foremost. You do not speak of it after we leave this room" he said. "If the Light acknowledges you as a warrior, the orb will start to glow. Any questions?"

Derrim shook his head.

The four High Priests bowed their heads and started chanting in low voices. Derrim waited excitedly for what was going to happen.

Suddenly the High Priests stopped chanting and looked to the Orb.

Derrim silently begged the orb to glow. But nothing happened.

At length high Priest Hakryn spoke:

"Apprentice Derrim, you have failed the last Trial!"

Derrim bowed his head and felt the cool stone floor to his forehead.

Later the same night, Derrim stood outside the enormous doors that led into the Hall where he had been tested. He hesitated.

"What are the odds of the door not being locked?" he thought. "Or that the sword will still be in there?"

His hand reached for the door knob, and opened the door carefully so that the door wouldn't creak. Inside it was dark, but Derrim's eyes had already adjusted to the lack of light so he silently snuck in.

He walked up the long isle and saw once again the orb. A thought of smashing it came to him, but he quickly changed his mind.

And there, up at the altar, was the sword. "They haven't taken it away" he thought excitedly and ran the last few steps up to the altar.

Derrim had the sword in his hands, and drew it from the sheath. A feeling of awe came over him for the excellent handiwork of a very talented blacksmith. He took a few trying swings with it and felt mightier than ever before.

Suddenly there was a sound heard at the door.

"Hello? Anyone in here?"

Derrim froze. He prayed that the room would be dark enough for him to be unnoticed.

But his prayers were unanswered.

"Derrim? What are you doing here?"

It was one of his fellow apprentices, Crispin.

"It's alright Crispin, I was just getting this sword… For Brother Darius"

Crispin gave him an odd look.

"Why? What is Brother Darius doing with the sword?"

"I don't have time to chat right now" Derrim said and tried to get past Crispin, but he would not let him.

"I think you should leave the sword where it belongs"

"Listen, Crispin" he spat "If you don't get out of my way then I'll have to…"

"Have to what?"

Derrim drew the sword and threatened Crispin with it.

"I am sorry, but that is a Holy sword. I cannot let you steal it!" he said boldly.

I pure desperation, Derrim thrust the sword through Crispin's body. With a surprised groan he sank to the floor.

"You… will be banished to Hell for this" he whispered and then he was gone.

Derrim felt cold inside. No emotions went through his body. He simply cleaned the sword on Crispin's cloak, sheathed it and then ran back to dormitory to get his things.

At dawn he was on the first ship back to Lut Gholein.

Derrim violently shrugged off the memories. It was the first time since it had happened that he had allowed himself to think about it. He looked at the sword at the opposite wall. Ever so slightly he had begun to hate it.

Derrim would often take long walks. Sometimes he would even take Gillian with him. It was on a cold winter's morning, during a walk in the forest outside town, that he first spoke of his troubles.

Derrim drew a deep breath and filled his lungs with cold air. At length he spoke, to a surprised Gillian.

"I wish I was pure again. If I ever was..

"Why do you say that? You must be one of the purest people there is. To stand up to demons like you have, it takes a pure soul to come out alive.

"You do not know my life"

"No, I don't even know your name" she joked but he refused to take the hint.

"Springtime will be coming soon. For you at least. I don't expect I shall see another one"

"Why do you say that?" tears were in Gillian's eyes, for he was very serious.

Derrim gave her a faint smile.

"Nay, I shall not trouble you with my burden"

"A shared burden is a lighter one" she said softly.

Derrim met her eyes and it looked as if he was about to say something. Then he drew his cloak tighter.

"I expect we shall see snow fall ere the night is here" he simply said and continued walking.

Derrim came down the stairs to the empty tavern. There was a faint light coming from the embers in the fire place. He threw a log on and the fire blazed up.

"You too have trouble finding rest? A voice came from behind and Derrim turned around. He did not know whether to be relieved or angry that Cain was there, so he spoke nothing in answer. Cain gazed at him, many questions were in his eyes.

"Ogden tells me you wake up in the night screaming. What do you dream about?" Cain finally said.

Derrim did not answer, but sat down next to Cain.

"The dreams… They are so vivid" he said at length.

"There is little known about dreams and their purpose. Perhaps your dreams is just a way for your body and mind to process such an ordeal that you've been through. Perhaps you would be better off talking to Pepin"

Derrim got up and grabbed a poker and stirred the fire.

"Maybe…" he said. "Maybe we should not fight. Maybe the demons are meant to rule this world."

"Well, then the High Heavens would not put up such a fight"

"They do?" Derrim shook his head in disbelief.

"Sure they do! Take you for example. Do you not think that you were destined by the Light to save Tristram?"

"I beg your pardon, but I do not believe in the Light"

"You would think someone trained as a Paladin would know more of the almighty Light and its powers."

Derrim turned to the fire again.

"So you mean there is still hope for me?"

"Hope dies last. But it is up to you and the choices you make from now on.

Now if you will excuse me, I will go and try to find some rest" said Cain and left, leaving him with many thoughts.

Derrim sat in the tavern and ate his dinner. He could feel the curious glances from the rest of the townsfolk but since lately he had become increasingly aloof and sometimes even outright hostile to the others, no one approached him.

"Look at them. Peasants! Why don't you kill them?" a deep voice spoke.

Derrim looked around to see who it was that had said that but no one was looking in his direction, or seemed to have heard the words. He began to take another spoon full of soup, but as he looked down he saw the bowl was filled with worms. Derrim instantly sent the bowl flying and spat wildly.

Gillian hurried up to him.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

"That bowl was full of worms and maggots. I suppose you think that is funny?"

Gillian simply picked up the bowl at the opposite wall.

"I can't see any worms. Are you sure…"

"I know what I saw!"

"Perhaps someone can't handle his drink" one of the men from another table said mockingly.

"Fine!" Derrim said and stormed out of the inn.

He had walked for a long time, muttering and kicking balls of snow around.

Suddenly, the landscape changed. The snow melted away and thick dark clouds formed in the sky. Before him lay a dark barren wasteland, where nothing could grow in the dry sandy soil. In his heart he knew that this was the outpost of Hell.

Then he felt his body being lifted up and carried over the dark plains at a tremendous speed.

In the distance he could hear the moaning and agonized screams from many tortured souls.

At length, the invisible hand that was carrying him dove straight down into a hole in the ground.

He went deeper and deeper, and when Derrim had lost track of how long the diving had taken, he could see fire in the distance.

He landed softly on the ground. Derrim was standing in front of a stair. On both sides of him there was lava bubbling.

Derrim looked up at the stairs. It seemed to lead into what looked like a church or even a cathedral.

He slowly took one step at a time and went inside. The fact that there were human skulls piled up against the walls didn't stop him from feeling awe as he walked the long corridor.

After a seemingly endless walk he saw fire up ahead. It was a huge five pointed star on the floor, a pentagram. Between each point were burning pits of lava. Derrim could feel the heat burning on his face.

He found himself standing in the middle of the pentagram and felt mightier than ever done carrying a sword. He felt like sitting on a throne.

"Power" he thought.

The cold made him come to his senses. He was lying in a drift of snow and was shivering with cold. Derrim quickly got up and brushed the snow off. Though it was freezing he could still feel the heat of the vision on his cheeks.

Gillian watched the change in her friend with wonder. She could be making casual conversations to him, about the weather or that Readith had new born pigs in his sty. Then all of a sudden he could start shouting, claming he saw demons behind her. But surely enough, when she turned around to look, there was nothing there. This always caused him to lapse into

a brooding mood.

But it was a long time since that had happened. Nowadays, he stayed mostly in his room at the inn and ordered the food to be served up there.

Last night when Gillian had been up there serving him his evening meal, he had sat on the bed looking pale and sweaty. When she had asked him what the matter was, he had whispered: "My brother… needs me… I must go… east".

"I didn't know you had a brother?" Gillian had said.

Then he had shaken his head and looked at her with terror in his eyes.

Derrim stood by the window, staring with unseeing eyes. In the distance was the church, and before the sight of it had made him sick. But right now he did not bother about it. By coincidence, or the mere irony of life, his window was facing eastward and that was where he was staring.

"I should leave this place soon" he thought. "But go where? East? Yes, that seems a good idea. But why… There is someone there who needs me… Yes that's it"

Then the world around him seemed to darken and he was blinded by white flashes. Derrim sank to his knees and silently prayed for mercy.

He once again stood at the five pointed star in the twisted sanctuary. He saw legions upon legions of demons, ready to obey his every sign and he felt the mightiest in the entire universe.

"You will be the mightiest there is… There is just one little thing you must do first…" the deep voice spoke.

It didn't frighten Derrim. He felt calm as he woke up on the floor in his room at the inn.

Suddenly his body began to move with all the speed it could muster. And while clutching the stone he ran down the stairs, and knocked over a few chairs on his way through the common room.

He ran and ran, despite the frosty air biting in his throat and lungs. And when finally he could run no more, he sank down to his knees.

Derrim slowly released his desperate grip of the stone and lifted it over his head. The sulphured colour that he before thought sickening, was now exquisitely beautiful.

He heard a mumbling chanting in some ancient language in the distance. Whispering voices said: "Do it! You will be the mightiest there is!"

Derrim trembled and sobbed.

The chanting that at first had been barely audible, had now increased in volume. The whispering voices were not whispering anymore but louder and more demanding.

"Do it" they kept repeating and the chanting had reached an almost deafening crescendo.

And so Derrim's last thoughts of Gillian and their friendship disappeared and he drove the stone into his forehead.


End file.
